Gotcha
by unfortunately1
Summary: A girl learns the consequences of failing her exams - namely, ending up in a world of homicidal 'ninja.' Needless to say, it doesn't go well. [OC, OOC warning]
1. Chapter 1

****Chapter 1****

One minute she was here, the next minute she was gone.

Her parents' shocked faces - not that she'd be able to see, of course - flickered between fear and anger and confusion for a while, not completely sure what they had just experienced. In her mother's balled hands clutched a crumpled wedge of paper, marked with black and red against faded white.

She had failed six of the thirteen classes, with only one score above a B - in Art. She liked Art. It was weird - everyone else seemed to think it was boring, and yet she found it fascinating. It was the only subject in which she paid attention in class.

"What? Where did she go? __If this is a joke…!__ " her mother yelled with increasing urgency and loudness. She snatched the phone from the table and dialed 999, her hands shaking. Seeing her husband standing around blankly, she hit him lightly on the arm. "Y-You must be kidding! Look for her! __Do something!__ "

"No, I'm not kidding," her father whispered quietly, almost silently, leaving the room. "I'm _Phil."_

...

It took Hannah a while to realise the reason why her mother had stopped yelling. Through her blurred eyes, burning with unshed tears, she noticed that something was amiss. Or rather, everything.

She stood in front of the family, who had clearly been about to start eating, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another. They openly stared at her and she openly stared at them. Her previous anger scattered as confusion and embarrassment began to sink in.

The entire ordeal with the report - which her parents __insisted__ on making a big deal out of, even though school wasn't really __that__ important - had been completely avoided, luckily. Her parents could suck it, she decided, because she was still bitter.

Hannah was glad that she had been spared the lecture afterwards though. But when she returned, then surely her parents would simply get mad - even madder than they would have otherwise - at her again? __Ugh__ , she thought, and decided it was better simply not to think about them.

The family members all wore simple shirts and trousers in dark colours like black and blue and grey, all with the same red and white logo stitched on the backs and fronts of the shirts. If this was supposed to be a cute family thing, she thought, it wasn't working. It looked more like they had all accidentally gone to the same shop and bought the same items of clothing.

Besides, the family itself wasn't cute - though this was probably because all members of the family were shocked by the fact that a random girl had suddenly appeared and disturbed them during their meal, but that wasn't important - __though__ their youngest son did have the chubbiest cheeks, she cooed internally. She was such a sucker for little kids.

They all sat weirdly on their knees, with chopsticks and bowls of rice placed on the table. They all had black eyes and black hair, but rather pale skin. Was she in Asia somewhere?

This was really strange. The room was decorated in a very minimalistic manner. There was nothing in the room aside from the table that the family sat at, which was __huge__. Clearly they invited a lot of guests over, and clearly they were important people.

Hannah took her phone from her pocket and held it up to search for signal or wifi so that she could contact her parents. There was nothing. __Poor family__ , she thought. They must have been living in the middle of nowhere. She would never be able to survive without technology - something that her parents often chided her for.

And then she realised that it was rude to ignore others and put away her phone again.

"Um," she started eloquently. All four pairs of black eyes stared directly at her, their faces a mixture of confusion, disbelief and annoyance. She couldn't finish what she was about to say - not that she had anything prepared - when they all glared at her in that way.

"Um," she said again when it was clear that they wouldn't say anything in reply.

She felt a little underdressed in her pyjamas made of light blue cotton and decorated with grey elephants. She had originally thought it was cute when she was fourteen and bought it on impulse with her mother. Three years had passed and she hadn't grown much since then so the pyjamas still fit pretty well, even though the legs and sleeves were a little short.

"Um," she repeated, rubbing her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "I think I'm gonna go now."

 _ _What the hell was going on?__

...

So she left the room, much to their astonishment, even though she had clearly warned them what she was doing not a minute ago. She left the room with her head held high and turned right, because she was right-handed and everyone knew that right-handed people were better than left-handed ones, and subsequently even the direction right must have been better, simply because it was __right__.

Haha - did you see what she did there? See, because the word 'right' can refer to both the direction and the term which means 'correct' and so she took that and - __nevermind__.

And then she kept turning right until she realised that she had gone a full circle when she peeked into the next room and saw the same family of four, still with their meals unfinished - __jeez, how long does it take for them to finish eating?__ \- their faces still fixed with the same confusion when she reentered and left again after realising what she had done.

She then took the right, then turned __left__ \- even though it was the lesser direction - and then forgot where she was and just chose any direction when she got to it.

After a while she realised that she was being rude, imposing on the family, and quickened her pace.

And then she stopped.

She peeked into the room. And yet there was still that family of four, still not done eating and still with that confused expression on their faces. She hurriedly left again, this time feeling slightly embarrassed. They must have thought she was doing this on purpose, but of course she wouldn't, because that was __rude__ and her mother had taught her better than that.

She wanted to leave their house. She really did.

The only problem was that no matter which way she went, there always seemed to be a long corridor leading to another room, which subsequently led to more rooms. But each of those rooms seemed to lead back to the family of four, and the exit was no-where in sight.

She was lost inside their house - or mansion, rather, it seemed.

Hannah looked into several of the rooms - not that she was being creepy, of course. Aside from that __one__ hellhole in which she had first arrived in, most of them bedrooms that had obviously never been used before. She made a face at how many guest bedrooms there seemed to be - so far she had counted seven.

 _ _Rich people really do stupid things__ , she thought to herself, like build huge-ass homes which you can never leave once you enter. Though maybe that was the point - for burglars to die within the house as a punishment.

The next time she saw that family of four, she'd have to explain to them that she wasn't a burglar and had no idea why she was in their house, because she somehow appeared out of nowhere and just happened to appear in a mansion, so in fact they'd simply have to trust the fact that she wasn't a burglar and let her go unpunished - because __that__ was believable.

There were several more great halls filled with old-fashioned weapons, like swords and wooden poles. She took one of these wooden poles and swung it around, giggling while making ninja-esque sounds as she did so, completely unabashedly.

On one of her swings, she dropped the pole and when picking it up had stubbed her toe on the wall. She had kicked the pole for being so __stupid__ , but then decided it wasn't enough of a punishment and jumped on it several times with all of her weight, but somehow the pole never broke or even splintered.

 _ _Great. Even the pole is fitter than I am. Maybe I really do need to hit the gym more.__

Perhaps this was an Asian mafia, Hannah thought, in which case she'd need to get out quickly.

…Which brought her to the first point.

She took a right turn and looked into the room.

Nope. Family of four again.

...

She gasped upon entering.

This was new - a bedroom that __had__ been used before, though the only indication of this was that there was a desk on which several books lay, some of them opened. She crouched down on the floor and tried to read what was written in these books, but it was all written in a different language - Japanese or Chinese, probably. She had never paid attention in language lessons, but it sure didn't look like English.

There was a strange diagram of the human body with a bunch of blue lines in it - drawn in a similar way to blood vessels. But even she knew that heart didn't start in the stomach, so obviously this was either incredibly outdated information or a terrible diagram. She traced the lines with her finger. It was also unusual that they drew a blue flame around the body.

She picked up the textbook and flipped to another diagram. There was something about the weather. It was a diagram with a flame, a drop of water, dirt, a lightning bolt and a gust of wind drawn in a circle and arrows pointing around them.

It was like an elaborate version of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Water beat fire, and at least that logic was pretty simple, but the other ones were strange. For example, lightning beat earth in this diagram - but __everyone__ knew that earth was supposed to beat lightning, because that's what happened in all the Pokemon games she played as a child!

It was unusual - these sorts of lessons were never taught in England, or at least in her school. Not that she'd know, considering how often she skipped her classes and how little she paid attention. But at least she __thought__ they had never learnt anything like that.

"Hey!" she heard suddenly, and lifted her head. Right in front of her, barely an inch away, a pair of beady, black eyes stared back.

She screamed, flailing, and everything turned black.

...

"Did she really faint just from seeing Sasuke?" Itachi asked his father. "Are you sure that she's as dangerous as you said?"

"...She must be a spy. It's obvious," Fugaku replied sternly. "Do not underestimate the enemy, Itachi. This was clearly a plot made for us to underestimate her - see, can you sense her chakra?" Itachi closed his eyes as he concentrated.

"No," Itachi answered slowly as it finally dawned on him. "I see, Outo-sama. She is so skilled that she can hide her chakra this well, even to us Uchiha."

That was an impressive feat - jonin level at least. Her impressive fainting on the spot and embarrassing ploy were also made-up, that meant. This girl - who was probably only around seventeen years of age - must have been incredibly strong to have tricked him.

"Exactly," Fugaku replied.

And then all of a sudden, one second she was here, and the next minute she was gone.

The Uchihas' shocked faces - not that she'd be able to see, of course - flickered between fear and anger and confusion for a while, not completely sure what they had just experienced.

"What? Where did she go?" Sasuke asked curiously.

...

 **A/N:** Just an idea I randomly came up with that's not meant to be taken seriously at all (I mean I hope no-one would actually make dad jokes when their daughter disappears but you know). It may or may not be continued depending on response and whether or not I can come up with any good ideas.

 **Question:** Any specific characters that you'd like you see later?

Feedback, criticism etc. appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Yes, Mum," she replied with a daft smile, not bothering to open her eyes. "Give me ten more minutes," she yawned, then flipped on her side. The voice obediently quietened - which was strange, considering that it was her mother, not that she was going to complain. Or perhaps that was simply a sign that she was getting even angrier.

"Wake up! Now!"

"Right, right…" she yawned, unwillingly getting up. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, bed-hair splaying upwards in an impressively determined manner but continued hugging the comforter in her arms. It was always a bad idea to disobey her mother when her voice went low like it did then - it meant that she was angry, not that Hannah knew why.

"Ah, I just had the _weirdest_ dream, you know," she murmured. "You were yelling at me about my reports and then suddenly I was in this Asian mafia mansion. They didn't hurt me though, it's fine. Though, seeing as it was a dream, of course it would have been anyway. But it was _really_ weird. There were a bunch of little kids there too."

"What are you even talking about?" she heard her mother grumble. "Get up!"

She blearily blinked her eyes and turned to her mother, who dumped Hannah's school bag on the bed and tossed a hairbrush and a breakfast bar at her. She caught it, dumbfounded. "It's a Saturday. There's no school, right?" she asked, suddenly completely awake.

She was _sure_ that it was. She had gotten her test results back on Friday, anyway, so it would only make sense.

"It's _Tuesday,_ " her mother chided, pointing at the calendar on Hannah's wall. "Did you think I was going to let you forget about your exams today? You have to do well this time, right?" She gave Hannah a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going off to work now. Don't be late to school."

She sighed and tried to smooth down her auburn hair - a habit from when she was younger. She was like one of those birds that constantly self-groomed. She unplugged her phone charger and turned on her phone - a relatively new model but already blemished by several cracks and chips in the paint as a result of pure carelessness.

"Oh."

It was Tuesday 25th. That was strange. So she _did_ have exams today. And she somehow had conjured up four imaginary days in her mind.

It took Hannah several minutes to understand the situation - if you could really call it understanding. She only had a few minutes before she needed to catch the bus. And _then_ she also needed to revise for her tests - _five_ tests. It was ridiculous. She would never have enough time to do so in the morning.

Well, maybe…

A devilish grin crept on her face.

She could 'forget' about the exams. She could suddenly fall ill. She could accidentally trip down the stairs and knock her head and feign amnesia or a concussion or some other head injury. That way nobody would be able to blame her for not showing up. There were so many possibilities and excuses that could come with head injuries.

God, that was such a good idea.

…

She ended up fine.

The only thing she had gotten was a slight bruise on her forehead. That bruise, however, was enough to convince her school that although she wasn't injured enough to skip out on the exams completely, it wasn't her fault if her head started throbbing to the point that she wouldn't be able to think properly, and thus it wasn't her fault if she failed the exams. Her parents couldn't blame her either like they had last time. It was a win-win situation.

When she handed the envelope to her parents (revealing the same eight failed tests, plus Art), they simply sighed and let the matter go. Something inside Hannah hurt, although she wasn't quite sure what or why. Something about her parents' reactions made her feel a little miserable, dejected, frustrated, even _angry_ – she didn't know how to describe it. But she went to bed that day a little subdued, a little disappointed.

…

"Right, who are you this time?" she asked, this time completely unabashedly. The first time, she hadn't realised that she was dreaming. This time she was wiser and smarter and understood, and her patience was wearing thin when she couldn't force herself to wake up. She rolled her eyes.

The place she was in wasn't the same as the huge mansion she had been in the first time. It was a huge cave - _of course_ , because her mind simply _loved_ conjuring up the most clichéd places. What was this, Batman's lair?

There were three people inside the lair – a black-haired young teenager with _ginormous_ bags under his eyes, a two-metre tall blue-skinned fish-person hybrid and a very squat person sporting a sliced mohawk (or something equally hideous of that kind). She was pleased to note that out of the group, she was among the prettiest.

They all stared at each other for a while before she broke the silence with a grin and a sigh, squatting down on the slightly damp floor.

"So, what kind of Asian mafia is this and how do I joi -"

She felt a breeze - or rather, a woosh of air - by her ear, interrupting her, so slight that she wouldn't have noticed if not for the piercing _clang_ as metal hit the stone back of the cave and the way that her hair parted and floated in the air before settling on her shoulder once more, or for the wet, hot, throbbing sensation that she could feel in her ear which brought on a silent panic to the once cheerful girl.

 _What?_

Her eyes widened and she gingerly placed her hand against the earlobe. She noted that despite her fear, her hands were steady - dangerously so. When she took her hand down, there was the warmth of blood on the pads of her fingertips. The injury didn't hurt so much as sting, but sting it did. The shock of the injury brought slight tears – sharp, salty tears – to her eyes.

The three men were motionless, their eyes fixed on her. Her calculating eyes narrowed. She silently crouched down, her body moving on its own, picking up the metal blade and passing it between her hands, weighing up the weapon. It was strangely heavy.

"What was your intention with that trick?" she asked, a serious grimace settling on her face in place of the cheeky grin. "What did you expect to do - injure me? Scare me? Well, I'm _not_ scared! If the only way for you to frighten me is through violence, then I'm sure I'll do fine!"

She stepped forwards and walked towards the grinning blue man - a sentence which she'd never have thought possible but, there it was - and despite the height difference of a foot, she didn't once hesitate as she held up the blade up to him, its point just touching the man's cloak.

She pressed it in further, enraged at the man's grin. She was going to _wipe that off._ She wasn't going to stand it! She _wouldn't_ let any of them bully her.

It was _just_ like that time two years ago, and she wouldn't stand for it. Her eyes widened before narrowing.

"This is a trick, isn't it?" she screamed. "Oh, Johnny and Marie and all your _dearest_ friends, I bet you're _loving_ this right now, aren't you? Idiot, stupid Hannah wetting her pants because of a little prank! Yes, I bet you're _loving_ this! I'd have thought that you'd stop after - after what happened, b-but _no!_ Let me out of here! Stop it! _Stop this!_ "

She raised the blade up to his neck, pressing it in just enough for it to draw blood. The man's grin slid off and he held up a hand warningly, but she didn't care. Why would she?

And then she _stabbed_ and stabbed and she couldn't stop, and even when the blood and broken flesh of the blue man slid into water, she still couldn't stop herself from stabbing.

And she couldn't stop the tears and couldn't stop the actual blue man's arm whacking into her side, and she couldn't stop herself from crumpling into a ball as she slid and tumbled across the cold floor, and she couldn't stop the blade flipping from her hand into the air, and she couldn't stop the man hurling her against the wall of the cave, and she certainly couldn't stop herself from blacking out.

And then when she blacked out, she disappeared.

"A jutsu?" the blue man asked in his own language. "How did she get into the base? How did she conceal her chakra from us? What was her aim?"

The black haired man's eyes narrowed.

…

"Don't you dare try to act asleep to try and avoid your exams! You can't be late _today_ of all days," her mother nagged. "Remember, you promised to try your best for me." She handed Hannah a breakfast bar, embracing her daughter in a quick hug before dashing off.

Hannah's eyes widened. She couldn't look away from the calendar.

 _Tuesday 25th._

* * *

 **A/N:** It's been a couple of months sorry. This chapter is a bit darker than the previous one but it will become much lighter (the intention of this fic isn't to be heavy but just provide a few light laughs really)

 **Question:** Can you understand the sentences? I've noticed that sometimes I use quite long sentences which probably don't flow very well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"I can't understand you, you know," she shot back with a slight pout. The black-haired teenager (for some reason, he seemed strangely familiar to her) stared back with his eyes narrowed, hostile. His entire body was alert, yet strangely relaxed. He made no movements to attack her (though she was still wary after the blue man's attack last time) but she could just tell that he was fully capable of harming her if he so wished.

His limbs were gangly, as if he had just started a growth spurt. Hannah couldn't stop herself from comparing his figure to one of those gross spider creatures, with his beady eyes and weirdly long arms. With long, black hair and ginormous eyebags –

 _Ginormous eyebags._

Her eyes widened with the realisation. Wait. What was happening? Why was she in this place yet again? Most importantly – why _him_ , of all people?

Her earlobe prickled. She had to consciously stop herself from touching her ear. Weirdly enough, a small scab remained. Every time she looked at him, even though he was short and awkwardly teenager-esque, he still radiated that calmness from last time – a weird sort of calmness which was hard to describe. It was almost like the sort of calm that her mother gave off when she was about to give a lecture. _Yes_ , Hannah thought to herself. _That_ was what it reminded her of.

She yelped. She quickly tried to regain her composure (and dignity), faintly embarrassed at her outburst. His eyes, once black as beetle shells, turned into an unusual combination of black and red. She didn't need to pay attention in Biology to recognise that this was… abnormal. Completely, utterly abnormal. It just wasn't right. It must have been one of his mafia tricks, she decided, because she had 20/20 vision (her optician had confirmed this only – what, three months ago?) and her eyes could not be lying to her. His eyes _had_ changed colour. Unable to look away, she stood staring into his eyes.

"Wow," she gawked, half in awe and half repulsed. "Wow, you _really_ need some sleep. Your eyes are completely bloodshot. Plus, you have such ugly bags under your eyes. Maybe try, like, I dunno, a face mask or something."

He did not seem impressed, judging by the slight twitch of his eyes. Nevertheless, it was fine. She didn't have to be polite since he probably still couldn't understand her.

"Just saying, but you looked _loads_ better when you were, like, ten. Not that I'm being weird or anything – I just happened to be in your house when you were ten." She paused, looking back at his facial expression. She logically knew that he _couldn't_ understand her, since she spoke in English and he spoke in… some sort of Asian language. But she didn't like his gaze on her. It felt like his blood-red eyes were able to look straight into her soul.

"W-Wait – I realise how this sounds. I'm telling the truth here though!" she added, with a fixed nod. "I mean, I didn't try to enter your house or anything. And it wasn't like I stole anything. I just walked around for a bit in your house while you ate dinner with your family," she added. "And I didn't _try_ to kidnap your brother. We just happened to be in the same room at the same time! And I don't know how I managed to disappear when the rest of your family walked in – I genuinely don't."

He stared back, expression hard to gauge. They stood there for a good few minutes, squaring off – or at least, Hannah was trying to. She wasn't quite sure what the boy was doing – but _clearly_ he had never been taught manners. It was rude to stare.

"Is this some sort of code?"

Her mouth dropped open. Wow, this was weird. The boy in her brain – the boy who spoke only in a foreign language – could understand what she was saying. No – not only could he understand what she was saying, he could _reply_. In English. In a lovely baritone, too.

"What… the fuck," she whispered, incredulous. "Have you been tricking me this entire time into thinking that you couldn't speak English?"

The boy seemed to chuckle slightly, his previously tense body relaxing somewhat. Hannah felt her cheeks burning up with the embarrassment. This was just _bizarre_. Yes, so she'd return to school tomorrow and tell everyone what was happening.

The day before her exams, she'd been transported into this random country in Asia to stalk a certain boy – mind you, not just once, but _three times_ – who was part of a mafia. The boy became an adult – aged twenty, perhaps? – and his friends – a fish man and a squat man with a mohawk – attacked her. Then she stabbed the fish man, who turned into water. Then finally, the boy – who then turned back into a teenager – changed eye colour from black to red, then randomly started talking in English. Oh yes, and don't forget that she was transported home in order to resit her exams _every single time._

Hannah had always known that she was creative – evident by that A* in Art – but she was doubtful that even _she_ could come up with something this strange.

"I used my Sharingan to learn the language that you were speaking in," the boy declared, as if it was the most logical explanation in the world.

"Yes, that _totally_ makes sense," she retorted hotly. "And I used the… the fucking A-Avocado's Constant to work out what the… the saturation of your mafia's mansion is. And I'll use my _own_ Sharangin to beat you up, if you don't shut up, smartass."

"That… that's completely incorrect… on _so_ many levels," the boy replied quietly, his eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion and horror. "Perhaps this jutsu did not work properly?"

 _Damn_. That was stupid of her. In an attempt to use complicated vocabulary, she had tried to recall random phrases from her Chemistry textbooks. That had, quite frankly, been a terrible idea – she had gotten a D in Chemistry. And looking back on it, Avocado's Constant really did not seem to be the right name.

"Whatever," she huffed. "Stupid nerd."

"Who are you?" he asked, in that same annoyingly calm tone. Still glowering, Hannah stubbornly refused to answer, her lips twisted into a furious, childish pout and her fingers tugging on a lock of auburn hair. They stood in silence for several minutes before the stony boy reacted.

"I see. You are maintaining your pretence of idiocy," he said slowly. Although he fixed his eyes sternly on the ground, his lips twitched upwards, though Hannah couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a kind smile or a smug one. "I must say your tactic initially threw me off – but I am not so ignorant as I was ten years ago. Your charade will not get the better of me this time."

Hannah's face twisted into a comical mask of confusion. She glanced up at the teenager, somewhat baffled – no, absolutely _bamboozled_ – only to realise what was happening.

It took barely a second before she blacked out and disappeared.

"Mum," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath of air. She didn't – couldn't – even raise her head from the pillow. Her exhaustion, after three full days of being awake, left her with a pounding migraine and with her head spinning.

She didn't even have to look up at her calendar to know what day it was – _Tuesday 25th_.

"Up! Now!"

She could faintly hear the sound of her mother getting ready in the background. The smacking of her lips as she applied lipstick, the clicking of her heels on the ground as she walked about. It was all so familiar after seventeen years of the same routine. Her mother was really her safety blanket.

"You'll be late for school, you lazy thing! Get up!" her mother chided, sighing. "Good luck for your exams today. Try your best, okay?"

Hannah, as much as she would have loved _(not)_ to get up to go to school, physically was unable to get out of bed. She tried shifting to her side but succeeded only in making her headache worse. "I can't, Mum," she choked out. "I-I'm scared."

 _Scared_. That was… one definitely way to describe it.

With a gentle sigh, her mother slowly sat down on the bed next to her. She tenderly stroked the girl's head.

"There's no need to be scared, sweetheart," she replied with a soft smile. "Of course, your dad and I put a lot of pressure on you. We definitely don't go easy on you."

Yes, that was certainly true. They had tried everything from tutoring to ... They tried positive reinforcement; they tried being bribing; they even threatened to send her away to stay with her American hippie uncle. (Unfortunately, the idea of marijuana was far too appealing to Hannah, thus the idea backfired.) Hannah, by now, was familiar with almost all of these methods. It would take nothing short of torture to force her to do something that she didn't want to do.

"But we love you, and nothing will ever change that," her mother admitted. It was strange. Hannah had rarely heard them say it aloud. She felt strangely… dissociated. She wasn't quite sure how to respond. But it felt nice, too.

"Since that incident last year, your grades have gotten worse. By pushing you, we're just trying to help you get back to… where you were. But Phil and I both understand that your mental health and your happiness come first and foremost. We will never be truly angry at you for doing poorly in a test. So long as you try your best and you are happy, we will be too. Please, _please_ don't ever be scared of… of us."

They sat in silence for a few seconds as tears relentlessly poured forth from Hannah's eyes. The lump in her throat forbade her from speaking. It took her a few minutes to gather her emotions.

"I love you, Mum," she whispered, her voice cracking halfway through. She paused again, with a few sniffles. Her voice was hardly discernible, what with the sobs that tore through her. "I'll t-try h-harder. I'll p-pass these exams for you."

"I know you will, sweetheart," her mother murmured. "But I'm late to work and my blouse is covered in your snot."

Hannah laughed shakily at the unexpected remark, in spite of herself and in spite of her situation. "Go," she said with a newfound determination. "I'll g-get ready for school, I promise. Don't worry."

With a wet smile, she gave her mother a final hug and peck on the cheek. She watched the door as it closed with a bang. Slowly, Hannah changed out of her pyjamas into the school uniform. She splashed her face with cool water and grabbed a breakfast bar before heading out.

 _But that's not what I meant_.

Looking at the clock, it was inevitable that Hannah would be late to school. But it didn't matter. Nothing that she did mattered. The next morning, she would wake up once more, only to realise that it was still Tuesday 25th. She was trapped.

 _Mum, I'm scared_ , she cried internally _. I'm scared of going to sleep. I'm scared that I'm going crazy. It's killing me._

Oh, if only she knew.

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for the late update. I've been preoccupied with my GCSEs, unfortunately! This is becoming darker and darker, weirdly enough, since I started out with the intention of this being a light-hearted, funny story. I intend to keep it more light-hearted in the future though.

It's actually really really difficult to write humour. I have never ever gotten the hang of it. I'm gonna try and improve by writing this story though!

I would really appreciate any reviews! I felt so happy to read your thoughts on the last chapter! Please keep in mind that I am only writing for fun. I appreciate that my writing is not the best (English, especially the descriptive and narrative writing part, is actually my worst subject!) While constructive criticism is appreciated, please do not send hate. If it is truly not your cup of tea, then don't read it.


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